Chapter 5: Matt, Fiona’s Personal Trainer

On the first floor of the house, Lennie and Fiona were working out, executing their custom-designed workouts supervised by Matt. It wasn’t a basement per se, but the back half of it was below ground, and it had the same square footage as the main and third floors above, with a complete view of Puget Sound. The house was built on a large sloping lot of 1.2 acres, and with no houses near, it enjoyed complete privacy. Only the back wall and a small part of the foundation rested deep in the hillside dirt. The many windows on the rest of the lower floor had natural light.

Matt’s workout with Lennie continued with the next set of repetitions, so he turned to his other client, Fiona, to finish the final leg of her workout. Lennie and Fiona had started at the same time, but he was pushing the much younger red-headed Irish beauty harder and longer than the gray-haired old man who owned the place. The same man also had some unknown power to lead seven incredibly beautiful women in a way he couldn’t understand.

It was a question he had been grappling with for months, ever since he had found out that these beautiful women had moved in with Lennie a few months ago. All of the women had hired either Matt, whom Lennie had first hired over a year ago, or Tony, who had been training Cindy for 15 years and knew about her background but never sampled her fine female fruit. Matt liked the arrangement because he didn’t have to reserve time at a gym for them and was even paid for travel time to Lennie’s house, making the job even more profitable.

His silence finally broke, incapable of holding in the big mystery anymore. He looked across the room at Fiona, who was working hard and couldn’t hear him talking with Lennie.

“How do you do it? I mean, all these women adore you, and they’re insanely beautiful. Even more importantly, they are friendly and funny, not snobbish like most women who are as hot as they are. You’re a good guy and all that—while you are in great shape for a man nearly 68, I mean, come on, they adore you. Most men would have to pay them to be with them, but not you. Heck, it seems they all make great money as corporate entertainment consultants. I wasn’t aware that it was such a good job, but I’ve never worked in one of those huge corporations. I’m at a loss for words. I hope I haven’t already offended you. Please, I only want to know how you get these incredibly gorgeous women to live with you.” Matt was rambling, unable to control his questions.

Lennie paused for a few seconds, thinking of how to answer Matt.

“Did Tony ever tell you what he knows about Cindy’s background? Do you know what she does for a living?”

Tony was Matt’s 45-year-old mentor who had helped him get started after he had shattered his knee during a game and retired from the NFL as a star receiver. Lennie was the first to hire Matt a year before he met Cindy. After the girls moved in and Lennie decided to build a custom-designed gym on the first floor, Fiona, Taylor, and Maria hired Matt. However, Lori, DJ, and Kaylani chose Tony as their personal trainer.

Tony had been Cindy’s only trainer and knew exactly what Cindy wanted in a custom training program. He also knew why. She told him that she was an escort catering to men of expensive tastes who demanded perfection in the women’s bodies when they began training together. Even though he knew what she did, he never partook in her services, and they held each other in mutually high respect.

“Not really, he just told me the girls all work for large corporations and specialize in entertainment, planning events for their executive employees. I don’t know much about the inner workings of large corporations. However, I do know they have numerous departments that do various things. Is that accurate?”

Tony, who had known that Cindy was Samantha, an expensive escort, for the 15 years she had hired him to manage her custom workouts, didn’t spill the beans to Matt. He was sworn to keep quiet about the important fact. Lennie thought for a while and figured Matt had been loyal since he started coaching Lennie’s workout campaign nearly two years ago. Tony had successfully kept the secret that Cindy was also Samantha, so Lennie decided to tell Matt the truth.

“Matt, let me tell you a wild story. It started about six months ago. An older man was sitting at a fancy bar in downtown Seattle. A beautiful woman sat down at the bar, and every man there couldn’t help but stare. An hour later, an executive-type, wearing a five-thousand-dollar suit and a $50,000 Rolex, met her, and they got up and walked to the elevator together. A few hours later, she returned alone and sat next to me. In the next few hours, we got to know each other, and then, out of the blue, her phone rang, and I witnessed her taking a date from a stranger at the top of the next hour in that exact hotel. She admitted she was an expensive escort and left me a few minutes later to go to his room for a date, but not before exchanging numbers. Before she left, she asked me to go out on a regular date. I came up with an idea to have fish and chips while sitting on Alki Beach one weekday afternoon, and we fell for each other.”

Matt was stunned by the information Lennie had given him. “Uhh,” he paused again, “that’s incredible. That accounts for Cindy, but what about Fiona, Maria, and all the others?”

“All of the girls work for Cindy. She started a high-priced escort service that now attracts some of the richest and most important men in the world. One by one, over the years, Cindy hired them. And they remain loyal to this day.”

Matt stared again at Lennie, turned his gaze to watch Fiona go through her repetitions, and then asked, “Even Fiona?”

“Yes, Matt, all of them. All but DJ. She manages the entire thing. And they all like me so much that they put me in charge of the Service. They lovingly call me their pimp daddy, but it isn’t like I drive them around in a Cadillac, dropping them off at street corners. I don’t do much of the work. It’s organized so well that it practically runs itself.”

The concept was set in Matt’s psyche. “So do they go to bars and pick up customers? Do they advertise on the internet?”

“None of that, Matt. They get clients by referral only, and they require the clients to be on a strict STD testing protocol and sign an NDA swearing both secrecy and not having sex with an untested or unverified woman. Cindy tells the referrer that if they ever have a problem with the new client, both the referring client and the new one will be fired. No client, after enjoying such incredible female talent, wants to risk losing access by recommending someone who’s a jerk. That rule keeps them policing themselves and keeps a high bar on maintaining a dependable clientele.”

Matt thought about it for a while and said, “That’s dope. So you have had sex with them? All of them?” He paused for a second and turned his stare to Fiona, now with one knee on a bench and a foot on the floor, lifting a light weight and looking away. Her beautiful buns and thighs shone, wrapped in Lululemon leggings, highlighting her gorgeous curves. Her red hair was tied into a ponytail, which swung back and forth as she moved. The swinging of her ponytail and the flexing of her butt were intoxicating to watch. And both men watched as Lennie delayed his answer.

“Yes, all of them, even Fiona there,” he answered in a neutral tone. “All of them have special talents they share with me, as well as with their clients. Fiona, for instance,” he said as they both watched her lift the light weights, and the curve of her butt cheeks stared at the men. “Fiona there has the most incredible-tasting pussy in the world. Pussy usually tastes great, but hers is out of this world. There is nothing like it. Everyone thinks that way, not just me. The taste is like a precious liqueur, rich, sweet, and intoxicating, unlike any other taste you’ve ever experienced.” He smiled as he said it.

“So what’s it like to live with such a beautiful hook ... umm, pros ... uh, I don’t want to call them something offensive, but damn, Lennie, they all love you and are always asking you if they can do things for you. Shit, Lennie, I don’t even know how to ask my question.” After months of being silent but amazed at the gathering of beautiful women, who all lived in this house, he wanted to know more.

“Matt, you won’t offend me. You’re a trusted part of this family. Go ahead, just say what you want to say.”

Matt thought for a few seconds and, in both a sheepish and curious tone, asked, “How do you, an old man—pardon me, a ‘mature’ man—get seven women who are a generation-plus younger, really friendly, interesting, and so fucking beautiful to move in with you? They are world-class prostitutes, and you aren’t paying them a dime, yet they line up to be in your bed and have sex with you. That’s mind-blowing.”

“Why don’t you ask her?” Lennie looked at Fiona, who had just finished her latest set, and turned around to look at the men, smiling.

“Fiona,” Lennie called out. “Do me a favor? Talk with Matt and be completely honest. He has some questions for you.”

Matt’s face flushed a bit, but it didn’t stop him from walking to her and asking his questions.

“Fiona, Lennie just told me what you girls truly do for a living. Is it true?”

She looked at Lennie, still unsure exactly how “honest” she should be. Lennie nodded affirmatively.

“What did Lennie tell you?” Fiona asked, almost innocently.

“He said you and all the girls here are high-priced escorts. Is that true?”

She dropped her head just a bit as she nodded in the affirmative. “Yes, Matt, it is. The Escort Service’s rates are exorbitant, and it has mostly repeat rich clients, much wealthier than Lennie. We get paid very well, too.”

“Really? Like what, a grand an hour?” Matt didn’t use prostitutes, but had friends who did and talked frequently about their experiences. The going rate for the girls they hired was usually $300 to perhaps $500 an hour for the best-looking ones. And of course, those women insisted their clients always used condoms.

“More like two grand an hour, with a two-hour minimum. And then, almost every client tips another grand or so. So before the house cuts off a third, we normally make at least five grand every date. Additionally, many clients choose an entire six-hour evening or even an overnighter. We don’t usually discount our rates for longer dates. It adds up quickly.”

“That’s amazing,” Matt answered, still dumbfounded at the news. “I admit, Fiona, I’ve let my imagination wander and thought of being with you for an evening, even before I knew what you just told me, but there is no way I could ever afford something like the rate you charge. I would have never guessed that you girls would be sex workers. You especially, you’re so innocent-looking. Shit, is there even a question there?”

He turned back to Lennie. “Honestly, I’m simply in awe of you and what you have here,” and then looked back at the Irish redhead. Fiona smiled warmly.

“Thanks, Matt, I appreciate the compliment. And I understand your hesitancy in what words to use when describing the girls. Since I met Cindy seven months ago, I’ve had the same issue for a while. What I’ve since found out is that many women who turn tricks for a living are very particular about what men call them. What I’ve also found out through these girls is that those other women are the ones who worry about being called the correct label instead of trying to deliver the best experience to the client. After all, they are all doing the same thing, providing sex and companionship for money.”